


The Lodger

by bells_n_roses



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Cat, F/F, Fluff, Mild Angst, Roommates, The Lodger AU, Yes yaz has a cat, fight me, happy birthday chel, has this been done before?, probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:47:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27474496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bells_n_roses/pseuds/bells_n_roses
Summary: The Doctor moves in with Yaz to investigate the mysterious upstairs lodger. As they spend more time together, however, feelings start to build.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan
Comments: 4
Kudos: 37





	The Lodger

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ActuallyMe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ActuallyMe/gifts).



Yaz sat at the bottom of the stairs, her hands clasped tight around this month's bills. There was a crease forming in between her eyebrows as she mentally calculated her salary, and all the things she could cut to make rent. The kitchen cupboards were already sparse, but perhaps she could whittle the shopping list down just a little more?

The upstairs lodger banged something and Yaz sighed. She knew the real answer was to find someone to replace her sister, Sonya, who'd moved out for that new job in London. It'd all happened so quickly--one week Sonya was there, the next she was packing up her stuff and bragging on the phone to their mum--and Yaz hadn't had time to properly advertise the place. With the rent doubled, though, that had to change.

Yaz looked up as there was a knock on the door. With a sigh, she put the bills back on the stairs and went to find her keys.

"Hold your horses," she called, "I'm coming."

The knocking continued, an odd, irregular staccato. 

"I said, I'm coming!" Yaz pulled open the door to see a short, blonde woman grinning up at her.

"Hullo! I'm the Doctor, your new lodger."

"Huh?"

"Here you go!" The woman pressed a brown paper bag full of cash into Yaz's chest and stepped into the hallway with the force of a small storm.

"Right." Yaz blinked, glancing between the paper bag and the woman who was now charging off to the kitchen. "Wait, how did you know I need a roommate?"

The woman paused, her face all scrunched up like playdough. "Advertisement in the corner shop. Wasn't that you? You are Yasmin, right?"

"Yaz, to my friends," Yaz corrected, more out of habit than anything.

"Ooh, are we friends? Very glad to hear that, Yaz, have to say I did think it'd take a bit longer." 

Yaz shrugged, taking another look at the brown paper bag. The Doctor--was that her name? Doctor what?--took down one of the frying pans and set it on the stovetop. As she rummaged through the kitchen, picking out eggs, spices, and various other ingredients that should not have gone together, the Doctor told Yaz about some famous chef she'd studied under. The name was familiar to Yaz, but the whole story sounded a bit unlikely.

"Am I in, then?" the Doctor handed Yaz a plate of what looked like scrambled eggs.

Yaz peered down at it, wondering how quite so many ingredients had been gleaned from her kitchen. "Is this edible?" she asked.

"...Yes."

"Then sure."

The Doctor's eyes widened. "Really?"

"You're weird and you cook, that's good enough for me." Yaz sat down at the table and began to eat her eggs, surprised by how good they tasted.

*

The next month took a bit of getting used to. Unlike the lodger upstairs, the Doctor did not keep to herself. She was always somewhere around the house, measuring the temperature of the toilet water or tapping a small hammer against the wall. One time, Yaz caught her poking a mop handle against the damp spot on the kitchen ceiling, her body tensed like she expected it to poke back.

"Don't go near that," the Doctor'd said, and from the look on her face, Yaz was inclined not to.

For the most part, though, things were good. They got on well, the Doctor did her fair share of chores, and with rent no longer an issue there was a massive weight off Yaz's shoulder. She was finally able to have fun again.

There were a few weird things--the Doctor never seemed to go out, not even to work, and she talked to Yaz's cat a lot. Not just normal cooing, either, but what sounded like lengthy scientific explanations. It would've weirded Yaz out of she wasn't so interested in what the Doctor had to say.

A month and a half after she'd moved in, Yaz asked the Doctor if she wanted to come to the local pub quiz and maybe meet some of her friends. Ryan, she knew, would definitely get on great with the Doc.

It was early in the morning, and the Doctor had treated Yaz to a cooked breakfast before her shift, which began at a truly atrocious hour. They sat across from each other, knives and fork at the ready, while Yaz tried to phrase the question in a casual way.

"Oh, Yaz," said the Doctor, "I'd love too--"

Something upstairs crashed, and they both looked up to the damp spot on the ceiling, which had grown since Yaz last checked on it. Footsteps rung out, too loud and quick for the frail old man that lived up there, and something else fell to the floor.

"Are you alright up there?" Yaz called.

"Perfectly fine," came the clipped, almost robotic voice of the upstairs neighbour.

The Doctor frowned. "I think I better not, Yaz, I've got lots of work to do."

"Right." Yaz deflated. For some reason, she really wanted the Doctor to come along. "'Course. If you change your mind, though, just give me a shout."

*

There was a kind of unspoken distance between them, one which was hard to reconcile with the Doctor's apparent friendliness. The Doctor would tell stories and ask about Yaz's day and she seemed genuinely interested in her life, but one wrong word and she'd clam up. Yaz couldn't guess what caused that faraway look, or the sudden tension around the Doctor's mouth as she concentrated intently on something Yaz could only guess at, but one cause seemed to be the upstairs lodger. Something about him really upset the Doctor.

Despite all this, they grew closer. Perhaps it was inevitable, what with all the time they spent together--living with someone brings a certain type of closeness, and after late night shifts at the precinct, the Doctor was always there with a cup of tea and a warm smile--or perhaps Yaz was just useless when it came to clever, enigmatic people like the Doctor. Or just the Doctor, really.

That's why, when Yaz's cat went missing, it was the Doctor who comforted her. Detective Meow had only been gone for a day, but Yaz was distraught--he was an indoor cat, and very happy that way, and, what with the rash of cat disappearances in Sheffield the past few months, she had more than enough reason to be worried. What if it was a killer, like the papers said?

Yaz spent the entire evening looking for him, and the Doctor joined her. It was the first time she'd seen her outside of the house since she'd moved in, and Yaz was strangely touched that the Doctor would help her like that, without even being asked. The Doc must've liked Detective Meow a whole lot.

They combed through streets and back alleys, calling out to the missing cat. Yaz stuck a book's worth of posters up on all the empty walls, streetlights, and into every letterbox she could see. When it eventually grew dark, they decided to call it a night and look again the next day. 

"Maybe he just got lost," said the Doctor. She opened the front door to let Yaz in first.

"I don't see how he got out in the first place--I always make sure the door's locked when I leave, and there weren't any windows open."

The Doctor sighed. There weren't any answers she could give. "Do you want some mulled wine?" she said eventually. It was already eleven and they were both freezing.

"Thanks, but I don't drink alcohol," said Yaz.

The Doctor smiled. "That's excellent news, because I make my mulled wine with apple juice--completely halal!"

"Oh." Yaz raised her eyebrows. "Go on, then, I'll have a cup."

The Doctor set to work cutting up oranges and heating the mulled wine--apple juice?--on the stove. The smell swirled around the room, reminding Yaz of school trips to Germany and bonfire nights when she was a kid. The pot simmered, little grains of cinnamon swirling around the shimmering surface.

"Smells good," Yaz said.

"Everything I cook is good."

Yaz snorted. "Debatable."

"Oi, I am a very good cook!"

"Your scrambled eggs are decent, I'll give you that." Yaz smiled as she spoke. She fetched two mugs from the cupboard and set them on the counter so the Doctor could ladle in their drinks.

Careful not to spill any, they moved the mugs into the lounge, where they set themselves up on either end of the long sofa. Yaz tried not to frown as they sat down, even as she wondered why exactly she wanted to be close to the Doctor.

"Should we ask upstairs to join us?" Yaz said, gesturing to the stairs.

The Doctor frowned. "I think not."

"Right."

They sat together for a time while Yaz went over the plan of action for the next day, which was, luckily, a Saturday, so they'd have the whole day to look for Detective Meow. The Doctor listened, offering advice now and then, though she didn't look hopeful. Yaz got the impression she knew more than she was letting on.

At some point in the night, they'd gotten closer, and by the time she'd picked out the orange slices from her mug, Yaz was resting her head against the Doctor's shoulder. The Doctor had her hand rested by Yaz's hair, and she spoke with uncharacteristic softness. Yaz very suddenly realized why she cared so much about the Doctor being close to her. 

_Oh no. ___

__*_ _

__Yaz didn't confess her feelings that night. She couldn't. She could barely deal with her cat leaving; there was absolutely no way she could cope with the Doctor pushing her away, too._ _

__*_ _

__It was the meowing that clued her in, eventually, on the alien spaceship upstairs. In retrospect, it was a tiny bit obvious, but Yaz had been so caught up in her one sided romance with the Doctor that she hadn't paid attention to it. None of the weird thigs registered--not the mold, or how she never saw the lodger, or how every single cat on the street had gone missing. Sure, Yaz'd been aware of each individual thing. She'd just never connected the dots._ _

__What followed next was a blur of confrontations and electricity and near death experiences. She'd gone upstairs to ask the lodger--what was his name? How had she never questioned it?--about the cat noises, and somehow ended up on the wrong side of an alien dimension; in the vague, foggy bit of memory between her knocking on the door and being sucked hand-first through the engine, the Doctor appeared. The brave, magnificent Doctor._ _

__She'd taken charge, as usual, shouting commands that Yaz, already half dead, could only just understand, and arguing with the lodger--the computer programme?--who'd trapped her there. Eventually, Yaz knew, they'd gotten out of there, and the entire top floor had vanished. At least, that's what the Doctor said happened--honestly, Yaz didn't remember most of it._ _

__She stayed for a bit, while Yaz recovered. Made her soup that was definitely not chicken and kept her warm while she fought off whatever the spaceship had given her. There was a distance to her, though, greater than before, as though she was aware how soon she had to go. When everything was explained, Yaz understood that the time they'd spent together, however important, was fleeting in the eyes of a Time Lord. She didn't know how to feel about that._ _

__*_ _

__Light shone in through the curtains, catching on the surface of Yaz's reading glasses. Dust motes swirled through the air, bright and white in the sun. It was early--earlier than she usually got up--but something had dragged her out of bed that morning and into the kitchen. She hadn't figured out what yet, but that was half the game. Yaz didn't mind waiting._ _

__The papers strewn across the kitchen table stirred, then fluttered and fell to the floor. Yaz looked around for an open window, but there was none, and the weird breeze was only getting stronger. A great, whooshing noise joined the wind--spontaneous, terrifying, and utterly brilliant--and Yaz watched, jaw loose, as a tall blue box appeared in her kitchen._ _

__"What the--"_ _

__"Alright, Yaz?" The Doctor poked her around the Tardis wall, a cheerful grin stretching her mouth just a little too far._ _

__"Is this it?" Yaz asked, her voice a whisper. In the back of her mind, she noticed the strained look in the Doctor's eye. "Is this your ship?"_ _

__"Yup, this is the old girl." The Doctor patted the side of the box affectionately._ _

__"Oh."_ _

__"She's called the Tardis. Time And Relative Dimension In Space--that's what it stands for. She's brilliant, ain't she?"_ _

__Yaz took a careful sip of her tea, and the Doctor's grin faltered. "Is it time for you to go?" she asked._ _

__The Doctor gave her a tight lipped nod._ _

__"You're the weirdest lodger I ever had."_ _

__"I know."_ _

__There was a long, heavy pause. Somewhere deep inside the Tardis, something was whirring, as if to remind the Doctor of her other life._ _

__"Guess I better go, then."_ _

__Yaz reached out, unable to stop herself, her tea slopping over the edge in her haste. "Wait," she begged._ _

__"What is it, Yaz?"_ _

__Yaz took a deep breath. "Could I... could I come with you?" she asked._ _

__The Doctor smiled--a real, proper smile, like she'd never been happier. "Oh, Yasmin Khan, I thought you'd never ask."_ _

**Author's Note:**

> This is a birthday present for the wonderful @ActuallyMe. You're such a cool and caring person, and a great writer--I hope you enjoy this, and that the rest of your day is fabulous :)


End file.
